He paced faster, stomping around. "I declare I'm all in a cold sweat. ’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence. Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs. . Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales. Not afraid of me, either. " "Poh! poh! say no more about it," rejoined the man hastily. What do you think people will make of that? What will this lover of yours make of that?” At intervals Ann Veronica demanded to go, declaring her undying resolve to repay him at any cost, and made short movements doorward.
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